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FT: Global menu - Kicking up a stink

Global menu: Kicking up a stink

By Fuchsia Dunlop

Published: May 20 2011 17:49 | Last updated: May 20 2011 17:49

Cheese-tasting in Shaoxing; stinking beancurd on sale in the market; a beancurd vendor

It was lunchtime, in a private room at the Xianheng Tavern, the most famous restaurant in the ancient Chinese city of Shaoxing.

I opened the plastic boxes that I’d carried, sealed, all the way from London, and the stench of farmhouse cheeses began to waft across the room. The Chinese chefs and waiting staff seated around the table eyed them warily. Only two of the younger chefs had any cheese-related experience. None of the others, including the manager and executive chef of the Xianheng, Mao Tianyao, had tasted it in any form.

Cheese is not a favourite food in China, to put it mildly. Traditionally, dairy products were associated with the nomadic people who lived on the fringes of China and who were regarded as fearful barbarians. The Han Chinese, with a few notable exceptions, avoided eating dairy foods altogether: many were, and still are, lactose-intolerant. In recent years, influenced by western lifestyles, Chinese parents have begun to feed milk to their children, and their purchasing power has contributed to soaring worldwide milk prices. Cheese, however, is still generally regarded as beyond the pale. A few sophisticated Shanghainese might eat Stilton just as sophisticated Londoners eat tripe and chitterlings, but many people, especially in the provinces, have never tasted it.

But if the Chinese disdain the cheeses enjoyed by Europeans, they themselves adore some stinky foods that would appal many foreigners. Shaoxing, an hour’s drive from the Zhejiang provincial capital Hangzhou, is best known for its rice wines, but it is also the Chinese headquarters of “stinking and fermented” (chou mei) delicacies. Although I first went to Shaoxing to taste the wine, over several visits I became fascinated by its odorous foods, including the relatively well-known stinking beancurd, and also “fermented thousand layers” (made from beancurd skin), and various semi-rotted vegetables. All were shocking at first taste, with their earthy, old underwear aromas, but strangely addictive. “Fermented thousand layers” reminded me of the part of a high old Stilton that is closest to the rind, that yellow, sandy bit that gets right up your nose, dirty and delicious.

Over several visits to Shaoxing, I wondered what the locals, such ardent lovers of rotted soymilk and vegetable stalks, would make of rotted cow’s milk, otherwise known as cheese. Finally, I returned to Shaoxing with a boxful of artisanal cheeses from Neal’s Yard Dairy in London, including the smelliest I could find in the shop. I had selected one mild hard cheese, Isle of Mull, to serve as a kind of toe-in-the-water; Stichelton, which is an unpasteurised version of Stilton; pale, veined Harbourne Blue; Ardrahan, a fairly whiffy washed-rind cheese that I adore; Milleens, another washed-rind variety with a punchy, farmyardy aroma that acquires a hint of ammonia as it ripens; and a wildly smelly Brie de Meaux. By the time I reached Shaoxing after a week on the road, the cheeses had all ripened nicely, and some were beginning to ooze.

At the Xianheng, a waitress cut the cheeses into pieces, and the assembled tasters began to pick them up with their chopsticks, sniffing and tasting. And where I had been impressed by what cheese and stinky soya products had in common, these culinary professionals were immediately struck by their differences. “Although in some ways you could say the flavours of cheese and fermented beancurd are similar,” said Mao, “vegetable stinky foods are very clean and clear in the mouth (qing kou), and they disperse quickly, while milky foods are greasy in the mouth (ni kou), they coat your tongue and palate, and they have a long, lingering aftertaste.”

Two other chefs said the cheeses had a heavy shan wei (muttony odour), an ancient term used by southern Chinese to describe the slightly unsavoury tastes associated with the northern nomads. Another said that the selection “smells like Russians”. “The difference,” he added, “is that the stinky things Chinese people eat give them smelly breath, while stinky dairy things affect the sweat that comes out of your skin.”

Chinese fermented beancurd, an intense-tasting relish, had always reminded me of a ripe blue cheese, but the Shaoxing tasters, faced with a Stichelton, disagreed. “It does have a rich umami taste,” said chef Chen Judi, “but there’s also a bitter aftertaste that people in this region wouldn’t like at all.” Several of the tasters were repelled by the sourness and astringent aftertaste of the Isle of Mull, which I’d thought was the most innocuous. “Our rotted thousand layers just doesn’t have that sour taste,” said Mao.

The cheeses they found most palatable were the Harbourne Blue (“this is quite close to Shaoxing tastes,” said Mao, “neither bitter nor sour, and quite clean in the mouth”) and, surprisingly, the very strong Milleens, with its ammoniac whiff. “I think people here would be able to tolerate this,” he added. The only cheese that provoked real consternation was the Brie. “It has this animal stench that assaults your nose,” said Dai Jianjun. “Definitely the stinkiest,” said Mao, “I really can’t bear it.” Most of the others agreed. Only one chef, Sun Guoliang, actually liked it. “It has such a complex flavour, like stinking beancurd, rotted thousand sheets and fermented beancurd, all mixed together.”

After our first course of cheeses, we tasted some stinky local dishes for comparative purposes. And I had to agree with the assembled company that, despite the formidable aromas of the steamed stinking beancurd and the rotted amaranth stalks, their flavours were clean, dispersing quickly in the mouth, without the creamy clinginess of cheese. The cubes of fermented beancurd, too, had a magnificent creaminess, but it didn’t hang around: quickly vanishing to leave room for appreciation of the delicate soups and stews that came afterwards.

Much as I love cheese myself, by the end of the meal I was beginning to understand why a Shaoxing local might turn up her nose at Brie, while enjoying the stinking beancurd that perfumes entire neighbourhoods. I was, however, fascinated by how well the mellow tastes of Shaoxing’s amber-coloured wines matched the local stinking delicacies, a marriage as perfect as port and Stilton. The next tasting, perhaps, should be a gathering of European oenophiles around a table of Shaoxing wines and cheese.

‘Shark’s Fin & Sichuan Pepper: A Sweet-Sour Memoir of Eating in China’ by Fuchsia Dunlop, is published in paperback by Ebury Press on June 2

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2011.

ST: Sweet on sour (Recipe for Pig Trotters in Black Vinegar)

This dish is something that I will never eat. However, according to my mom, it is good to take this during confinement (i.e. after giving birth). For those out there searching for recipe - happy reading and happy cooking.

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Lifestyle

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Apr 24, 2011

Sweet on sour

Maisy Koh's confinement dish of pig trotters calls for black sugar and black vinegar

By Rebecca Lynne Tan, Singapore Cooks

 

Chocolate is the one thing Ms Maisy Koh cannot live without.

The housewife confesses shyly that the dark, addictive confection is always in the refrigerator of her Bukit Timah condominium.

'Oh, I love chocolate,' says the 38-year-old mother of two, Sophie, two, and Sonya, nine months. Her husband, Dr Beh Swan Gin, is a civil servant.

Yet, whenever she dines out, she hardly picks chocolate desserts, such as lava cakes which ooze warm chocolate from its centre, simply because she can make it at home.

In fact, the former brand management professional who used to work for a luxury resort chain can bake almost anything - from muffins and breads for her kids to kueh salat (a Nonya cake of glutinous rice topped with a pandan-flavoured coconut jam) to fluffy pandan chiffon cakes and carrot cakes.

And it is for those reasons that she always has a good stash of unsalted butter in her fridge, too.

She says it is important to have certain ingredients such as butter and coconut milk in the pantry, just in case you need them at the last minute.

'We had some black glutinous rice the other day, and it needs a dash of coconut milk to go with it, too,' she adds.

But the home cook more than just bakes in her well-stocked kitchen.

She also smokes her own salmon with herbs such as kaffir lime leaves and thyme, as well as cooks Asian dishes like pig trotters in black vinegar. She shares the recipe below.

She admits she was never keen on the 'sourish fatty pork' dish, but enjoyed the one her confinement nanny Yat Yee prepared for her after she had Sonya.

'It is not my favourite dish, but I learnt to cook it because my mother loves it, and so does my mother-in-law,' she says.

The dish is traditionally prepared for mothers after the birth of their babies during the month-long confinement period, and it is also consumed by friends and family who visit the mother during this time.

Ms Koh likes Yat Yee's recipe because of the balance in flavours - the dish is sour yet sweet.

The recipe calls for black sugar, a very dark brown sugar that can be found at wet markets and supermarkets. Use refined white sugar or rock sugar instead, and you will not achieve the right taste, she explains.

She also recommends the Chan Kong Thye brand of black rice vinegar. 'Any other brand might do but I cannot guarantee the dish will turn out good,' she adds with a chuckle.

She took an interest in cooking when she was in primary school and would help her late paternal grandmother with menial kitchen tasks such as pounding condiments with a mortar and pestle.

As a child, she would also stand by her grandmother's side, watching intently as she wrapped bak chang, a glutinous rice dumpling filled with pork, wrapped in bamboo leaves.

She has since learnt to make the dumplings and also cooks dishes such as char siew, spare ribs and tang yuan (glutinous rice balls).

In fact, it seems no recipe fazes her and she is even keen to make gnocchi from scratch with older daughter, Sophie, some time soon.

She says with a laugh: 'I think Sophie will like it, and the recipe for gnocchi doesn't look like rocket science.'

rltan@sph.com.sg

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MAKE IT YOURSELF: PIG TROTTERS IN BLACK VINEGAR

INGREDIENTS

10 eggs

1 pig trotter, cut into large chunks

800g pork collar, cut into large chunks (about 10cm by 5cm each)

30ml sesame oil

300g old ginger, unpeeled and sliced

375ml black rice vinegar (1 bottle, Chan Kong Thye brand)

375ml water

1 Tbs light soya sauce

5 Tbs black sugar

1/2 tsp ground white pepper

METHOD

1. Put eggs into a pot of water and bring to a slow boil. Allow to boil for six minutes, drain and set aside. When cool enough to handle, peel the eggs and set them aside.

2. Bring another large pot of water to the boil. Blanch pig trotter and pork collar in the water.

3. Remove any impurities that might have risen to the surface of the pot. Take the meat out of the water. Clean it thoroughly and remove hairs from the skin. Set aside.

4. Pour sesame oil in a large pot over medium heat and fry ginger slices for about two minutes, until fragrant.

5. Pour the entire bottle of black vinegar into the pot. Then fill the empty vinegar bottle with water and pour the water into the pot as well.

6. Add soya sauce, sugar, pepper and hard-boiled eggs. Cover and allow to simmer gently for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally to keep the colour of the eggs even. Remove eggs and set aside.

7. Add pig trotter to the pot and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer gently for 30 minutes.

6. Add pork collar and bring to a boil again. Keep the pot on a rigorous simmer over medium heat, with the lid left ajar. Simmer for 1 to 11/2 hours, or until the meat is very tender.

7. Just before serving, scoop out any impurities that may have come to the surface such as the ginger skin. Place the eggs back into the pot.

8. When ready to serve, bring to a boil again. Serve hot.

Serves 6.

This recipe is featured in Heritage Feasts. The cookbook costs $75 and is available at major bookstores, the Miele boutique, 167 Penang Road, Winsland House II, B1-01, tel: 6738-6286, and online at www.webshop.miele.sg. All proceeds from book sales will go to Kidz Horizon.

ST: The tart side of life

Lifestyle

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Apr 3, 2011

The tart side of life

Black vinegar has a complex, nuanced flavour, is simple to make and goes well with chicken

By Tan Hsueh Yun, Hunger Management

Perfect combination: Black vinegar dressing goes well with the chicken chunks, cucumber cubes, coriander and sliced chilli padi (above).

 

All around me, in the last couple of weeks, has been a sea of black. Black vinegar.

It was in the braised pig trotters I had at two eateries, Le Chasseur at New Bridge Road and Old Hong Kong Legend in Raffles City.

So thick, sweet and tart - I drank the sauces like soup and longed for more. And the eggs that had been stewed with the vinegar, they were a special treat.

Then there was the Japanese bento box dinner of black vinegar sweet and sour pork from Tampopo Deli in Liang Court. The vinegary tang was quite mellow but so good nonetheless.

One afternoon, a friend and I had lunch at one of my favourite coffeeshops, Cheng's Delicacies in Tiong Bahru, and I had to order their steamed Hainanese pork, a dish of sliced, tender pork belly with black vinegar dressing.

My friend took one slice and declared it too sour for him.

Good. More for me.

Anyone who has read my columns will know I cannot resist sour foods. Lemon, yuzu, lime, vinegar, they wake up my palate, make my eyes go wide, add zip to any meal.

My potato chip of choice is salt and vinegar, always. The classic recipe for a vinaigrette is one part vinegar, three parts oil. I like half and half.

I could go on and on about the vinegary foods I like. Crunchy pickles with a devilish sting. Fish and chips with lashings of malt vinegar. The pungent garlic, chilli and vinegar dip that is the first thing all Teochew restaurants set on the table when you sit down. And when you dip a piece of steamed pomfret into it, well, it's like dying and going to heaven.

Some people drink vinegar for health. There was a time where I would drink Korean pomegranate vinegar every day. I'm not at all sure about the benefits - but it tasted so good, especially with ice.

What is more important, to me at least, is how vinegar complements food.

Black vinegar, like balsamic vinegar, has a complex, nuanced flavour that is more than just one-note sour. It can be made from rice, wheat, millet or sorghum, or a combination of these grains.

When I have the time one day, I'll boil down a bottle of it, reduce it to a glaze. I bet it would make whatever it comes in contact with taste wonderful.

Since I could not get the steamed pork out of my mind, I decided I would experiment and make my own dressing out of black vinegar.

Much as I love pork belly, it is not something I can, or should, eat every day.

A leaner cut of pork might work, but let's face it, it would probably be dry.

Chicken is an acceptable substitute, I think. Breast meat is lean and if poached or steamed properly, will remain moist. I prefer drumsticks and thighs, and have used them in this recipe.

After trying various combinations of this and that, I settled on black vinegar, honey, soy and oil for the dressing.

It is dead simple to make. Of course, it is very tart, so add more or less of whatever ingredient to make it right for you.

I wish I could say that my black vinegar dressing was just like the one at Cheng's Delicacies. It is not, but it will do.

The tender chicken, crunchy cubes of cucumber, aromatic coriander and sliced chilli padi, all doused in the dressing, come together so well. I get a pleasant little jolt each time I bite into a bit of chilli.

Make the dressing first, so the flavours meld properly, and this salad should be eaten at room temperature.

And when everything is gone, maybe dunk some bread into the dressing. Do not waste a drop. Black is gold.

hsueh@sph.com.sg

www.facebook.com/tanhsuehyun

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MAKE IT YOURSELF: CHICKEN SALAD

INGREDIENTS

4 Tbs black vinegar

1 tsp light soy sauce

1 Tbs canola oil

3 Tbs honey

1 medium cucumber, about 400g

1 bunch coriander leaves

3-4 chilli padi

4 chicken thighs and 4 chicken drumsticks, poached or steamed

METHOD

1. Pour the vinegar, soya sauce, oil and honey into a glass jar with a screw-top lid. Cover and shake. Have a taste and add more soy sauce or honey if needed. Set aside.

2. Wash and pat dry the cucumber, skin it, cut it into quarters lengthwise. Scrape out the seeds, cut each quarter lengthwise in half and then dice into cubes crosswise. Spread the cucumber out onto a serving plate.

3. Rinse and pat dry the coriander, cut off and discard most of the stem, leaving only the leaves. Set aside.

4. Slice the chilli padi, set aside.

5. Debone the chicken into large chunks, discard the skin, pile the meat on top of the cucumber.

6. Spoon all the dressing over it, and top with the coriander and chilli. Serve immediately.

Serves four to six.

WSJ: The World's Most Expensive Noodles?

December 20, 2010, 6:37 PM HKT

The World’s Most Expensive Noodles?

A $324 bowl of beef noodles at Niu Ba Ba in Taipei, Taiwan

Four years ago, Taiwanese restaurateur Wang Cong-yuan asked his VIP clientele — local celebrities, three-star Michelin chefs, and world politicians — how much they would pay for a bowl of his best beef noodles. The most common answer he received: 10,000 New Taiwan dollars (US$324).

For whatever reason, the figure stuck. Mr. Wang printed it on the menu of his Taipei restaurant, Niu Ba Ba (“Beef Father” in Chinese).

Today, the small 40-seat eatery is known among many foodies for serving the world’s most expensive bowl of beef noodles. Niu Ba Ba has a lower-priced beef-noodle bowl — called “ordinary beef noodles” on the menu — that costs a more affordable NT$200. But Mr. Wang gets requests for his most expensive bowl almost every day.

It took the chef 15 years to perfect his recipe, which includes just 120 grams of noodles, five four-inch squares of beef, one piece of tendon, and of course, soup. Here, he explains why he charges more than a six-course meal for each bowl.

Four countries of beef: Chefs often cite import costs as a reason for high price tags, but Mr. Wang takes it to another level. For one bowl of noodles, he uses cuts of beef from four different countries: Japan, Australia, the U.S. and Brazil (for the beef tendons).

Custom cuts: Meats are most tender when cut against the grain, but that can be tricky when dealing with different parts of the cow. Mr. Wang cuts every piece in a specific shape perfectly suited to how the meat and tendons meet. For example, the Japanese beef is frozen slightly to ensure cleaner cuts whereas Australian beef is slowly scooped out from the side of the bone after cooking.

Freezing: There’s a reason why some leftovers taste better the next day – more flavor has had time to seep in. “No matter how long you boil the meat, it’ll turn the texture to mush before the flavors really marinate and develop,” says Mr. Wang. He uses a technique where he slow-braises the meat over three days, and freezes the individual pieces every night so they can rest in between. The process for all the different cuts of meat takes about one week.

Soup blending: Mr. Wang, who studied architecture in Taiwan, says he “builds” his soup. Using five or six different stocks, each distilled from various parts of the beef – tendons (for collagen), tenderloin (for that “meaty” taste), bone (for a smooth but hearty texture) – he blends the final soup similar to the way perfumers craft a scent. The resulting taste is “beefy,” but not “gamey” and there is a signature “velvety” texture to the broth and no greasiness.

Noodles: Originally made in-house when the restaurant opened 20 years ago, the noodles are now made in a nearby Taiwan factory using an exclusive Niu-Ba-Ba recipe. But to keep his customers happy, Mr. Wang offers more than 20 different varieties of noodles — thick to thin, flat to round – and will cook them to order based on the customer’s choice of al dente.

Minimal seasoning: Besides soy sauce, rock sugar, and some five spice, nothing else is used to season the beef broth. “The idea is to keep things as natural as possible and let the flavor of the ingredients shine,” says Mr. Wang, who sees many additional seasonings, like wine, as bad for your health. “I’ve had customers take my soup base to labs to ensure that it doesn’t have any carcinogenic ingredients in it.”

Niu Ba Ba. Zhongxiao East Road, Sec. 4, Alley 27, Lane 216, No. 16, Taipei, Taiwan. Tel: 886-2-2778-3075

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Copyright 2008 Dow Jones & Company, Inc. All Rights Reserved

ST: Vending machine serves up live crabs

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Oct 27, 2010

Vending machine serves up live crabs

The vending machine which sells live hairy crabs is located at Xinjiekou subway station in Nanjing. The inside of the machine is kept at 5 deg C to make the crabs hibernate. -- PHOTO: CHINA FOTO PRESS

 

NANJING: The ubiquitous vending machine has been dispensing anything from tickets, chips, and cola to bizarre items like second-hand underwear for years.

But live hairy crabs?

That's a first which a company in Nanjing, capital of China's Jiangsu province, is banking on to raise sales, reports said.

The crustaceans, usually eaten in the cold months, are prized for their roe. The Chinese also believe that the crab meat has a 'cooling' effect on the body.

Twin Lakes Crab, the company behind the novel idea, said that by saving on staff costs, it can make the crabs affordable for more people.

It said its crabs cost 30 per cent less than usual, or between 10 and 50 yuan (S$9.70) each, depending on size.

To keep the crabs fresh, the inside of the vending machine is kept at 5 deg C, cold enough to make the crustaceans go into a state of hibernation.

The vending machine, probably the only one of its kind in the world, is located at Xinjiekou subway station in Nanjing's business and shopping area.

ST: Tastes just like a shark's fin soup

Lifestyle

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Oct 17, 2010

Tastes just like shark's fin soup

By Chris Tan, Ask The Foodie

-- PHOTOS: CHRIS TAN

View more photos

 

Q My family loves shark's fin soup but we have stopped having it to save the sharks. Lately, we miss it. How can I cook a dish as close to real shark's fin soup in taste and texture? Which brand of vinegar should I use? I have come across shark's fin melon, which the supermarket staff told me to cut into cubes for boiling soup. Is there a reason for its name?

Lucinda Lee Liang Liang

A Shark's fin melon, nicknamed angel-hair pumpkin in France and Spain, is so called because its flesh collapses into delicate strands when it is cooked (see right side of the photo). It has an appealing texture, crisp and succulent in a vegetable manner. Portuguese and Spanish cooks exploit this by turning the melon into beautiful preserves of translucent, toothsome threads. Although the novelty of vegetable vermicelli from mother nature's pasta machine has much charm about it, its mouthfeel is not really anything like shark's fin.

For better fishy facsimile, consider sweet potato noodles (on the left of the photo), called dang myun in Korean and gan shu fen in Chinese, sold in all Korean supermarkets and some Chinese stores such as Yue Hwa. Soaked in water for 10 minutes and then simmered gently in the soup stock for another eight to 12 minutes - taste to check for doneness - they turn transparent and take on a gelatinous, springy resiliency very reminiscent of shark's fin.

I mention only texture, of course, as shark's fin has virtually no taste of its own. In a Straits Times article from February 1929, shark's fin is described by an Englishman thus: 'jelly-like thing... (they) taste of very little else but the sauce... they are not nearly so exciting as they sound.'

Or rather, they are only as exciting as the broth they are cooked in - a classic rich Chinese master stock, made with chicken, pork, ham and sometimes dried scallops, simmered very slowly for a long time (at least six hours, typically) to extract all their essences.

The red vinegar sold in stores is sometimes coloured artificially rather than with the traditional red yeast rice. It is better to make your own. Simply infuse naturally brewed rice vinegar (Japanese brands are good) with a spoonful of red yeast rice (sold by Chinese dried goods shops) for several minutes, until it is coloured to your satisfaction. Then strain it, bring it to a full boil to kill the yeast and sweeten it to taste with light brown sugar or yellow rock sugar. Stored in a clean bottle in the fridge, it keeps indefinitely.

ST: Crab evolution

Lifestyle

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Oct 10, 2010

Crab evolution

This sambal chilli crab recipe, which has oyster sauce, took 25 years to perfect

By Eunice Quek, Singapore Cooks

Ms Serene Kwok cooked chilli crab when she was 10 as her mother's version of it was too healthy for her. -- ST PHOTOS: MARYANNE TAN

 

Ms Serene Kwok's sambal chilli crab recipe has been marinating for a long time - about 25 years, to be exact.

In all that time, the recipe has undergone many tweaks by Ms Kwok, 35. The regional marketing manager of premium home kitchen appliance company De Dietrich first whipped up the dish when she was 10 years old because she did not like her mother's version of the local favourite.

Says Ms Kwok: 'Her version was too healthy and only mildly spicy. So I decided to do it myself. I killed a live crab in less than a minute. After she tried it, she said I could take over the kitchen.'

Back then, the recipe called for a lot of tomato sauce, but as its creator grew up, it became based on sambal chilli, as well as two unusual ingredients: coconut milk and oyster sauce.

Both are used for thickening the sauce. Ms Kwok says her mother often used oyster sauce to add flavour to her dishes, and that is why she included it in her recipe.

The sauce also has an extra egg-like consistency because her husband, Mr Christoph Yan, 39, is a huge fan of it.

She says: 'He's not really a seafood person, so he will eat the sauce with white rice.'

She prepares a separate dish of butter crab for her daughter, Christel, as the nine-year-old sometimes finds Ms Kwok's dish too spicy.

The student at CHIJ (Kellock) is following in her mother's footsteps. A good cook, she has tried making her own butter crab and instant noodles.

Ms Kwok was never taught how to cook. Instead, she picked up basic skills by observing her mother in the kitchen.

She was given the liberty to prepare her own dishes and received the thumbs-up from her family with her very first dish of black soya sauce chicken, at the age of 10.

She says: 'My mum was not the traditional mum who sewed and cooked. Whatever we wanted, we had to do ourselves.

'She cooked with only my dad in mind. Very healthy food that was always steamed or boiled. We always had to add extra salt or sugar to the dish.'

On Saturdays, her eldest sister, Shirley, cooks up a storm for their weekly family feasts at her house.

Ms Kwok is the youngest of six siblings. Should Shirley take a break from her weekly chef duty, Ms Kwok commandeers the stove and prepares her chilli crab dish, along with other dishes, such as roast duck and bak kut teh.

To jazz up instant noodles, she adds dang gui or angelica root, as well as wolfberries for a more herbal twist.

Since her job requires her to eat out at fine dining restaurants and indulge in French food frequently, she says she appreciates homecooked food. Her only gripe is washing the dishes. Luckily, she says, her husband gamely does it.

The family of three eat out frequently at Tiong Bahru market, but Ms Kwok makes it a point to cook at least twice a week, especially when her daughter requests specific dishes.

She says: 'When it's examination time, she will ask me to make plain porridge with silver bait, scallop and wolfberries. She can eat it for all three meals.'

euniceq@sph.com.sg

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MAKE IT YOURSELF: SAMBAL CHILLI CRAB

INGREDIENTS

2 large live crabs

Oil for stir-frying

1/2 Tbs chopped garlic

1/2 large red onion, sliced into rings

4 Tbs sambal chilli paste

1/2 cup water

1/2 Tbs oyster sauce

1/4 cup coconut milk

2 eggs, beaten

Salt or sugar to taste

Garnishing (optional)

One stalk of spring onion, chopped

Handful of parsley, chopped

1 chilli, sliced

METHOD

1. De-shell and clean the crabs. Divide each crustacean into five parts (shell, two pincers, two body parts, above). Lightly crack the pincers so that the sauce can infuse the meat during cooking.

2. Heat oil in wok over high heat. Add chopped garlic and sliced onions when oil starts to heat. Fry till fragrant.

3. Add sambal chilli paste and fry over medium heat for one minute.

4. Add the crabs and stir-fry for five minutes. Ensure they are evenly covered with the paste.

5. Add 1/2 cup of water and oyster sauce. Continue to stir-fry over medium heat.

6. Add coconut milk (amount may vary depending on how rich you want the sauce to be). Simmer for five minutes.

7. When the crabs turn red, add eggs into the sauce to thicken it. Add salt or sugar to taste.

8. When the sauce thickens, dish on to a plate. Garnish with spring onion, parsley and sliced red chilli.

9. Serve with steaming hot mantou or rice.

Serves two

ST: So bad it's good

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Oct 3, 2010

So bad it's good

When a craving strikes, even unhealthy fare like luncheon meat never fails to satisfy

By Tan Hsueh Yun, Hunger Management

Pair the humble luncheon meat with the stirfried egg and bittergourd, put in between burger buns and you get the delicious Chanpuru Burger. -- ST PHOTOS: BENJAMIN NG

 

Call me perverse but sometimes, in the middle of a healthy, refined and elegant meal, I start to think bad thoughts.

I could be eating sushi or maybe grilled fish and salad and visions of fried chicken or thick cut fries or roast pork would suddenly pop into my head.

Recently, in the middle of a very lovely kaiseki meal, I said to the friend I was dining with: 'Sometimes, when I eat this sort of food...'

'You want something unhealthy?'

See? I am not the only one. We went for Korean fried chicken afterwards.

Oh dear. And there's more.

One night while relaxing over drinks after work, my friends and I became very enchanted by the Spam Fries that Wild Oats, a bar at Mount Emily, serves. The batons of luncheon meat are fried till crisp. We dunked them into kaffir-lime flavoured mayonnaise, unable to stop ourselves.

And to think, we were planning to have just one drink each - no food, no nibbles - before heading home.

Since then, visions of luncheon meat have been popping into my head at all times of the day and night. I should shoot myself. What self-respecting food writer thinks about processed meat? Shouldn't I be yearning instead for grass-fed beef or pork from pigs that are fed an organic diet? But the belly wants what it wants.

I don't eat luncheon meat often but when I was growing up, my mother would sometimes fry slices of it for lunch, or make an omelette with it. Our family favours the Ma Ling brand and I like the firm, slightly chunky texture of it.

My favourite way to eat it is panfried and in a sandwich with slices of cucumber. Yes cucumber. Who am I kidding, right? But the crisp, green rounds, greasy meat and soft white bread (the kind I will never own up to eating) come together so deliciously.

Since it is useless to fight food cravings, I decided to give in to mine and make something that is both healthy and unhealthy: a Chanpuru Burger.

The idea comes from Okinawa, Japan. People there are said to live long because of a healthy diet that includes lots of vegetables, tofu, seaweed and fish. Chanpuru is a popular dish, a stirfry made with goya or bittergourd, and egg. Other ingredients might include pork, chicken and tofu.

Paradoxically, the Spam brand of luncheon meat is also popular in the cluster of islands in Southern Japan. It was introduced by the American troops stationed there. The Japanese add it to chanpuru and make onigiri or rice balls with it.

A fast food chain, Jef, came up with the brilliant idea of combining chanpuru and Spam in a burger, and I set out to copy it.

The important thing is to get the luncheon meat good and crispy. A round 400g tin will yield four good-sized patties, but if you want to be really, really bad, just slice it into three. Simply let the meat brown in a non-stick pan over medium heat.

Knobbly Japanese bittergourd is what the Okinawans use in chanpuru but sometimes, even Japanese supermarkets here don't stock it. I just use the local variety available in wet markets and most supermarkets.

If you wanted to, you could get an artisanal burger bun, but the soft squishy kind works best here. Slather it with what TV cook Paula Deen would call a 'gracious dollop' of mayonnaise spiked with ichimi togarashi, Japanese red pepper flakes.

The resulting burger is simply delicious - virtue and vice in every bite.

For those who cannot contemplate eating something like that, I've included a recipe for a straight-up chanpuru.

There is a catch of course. It has sliced pork belly in it.

hsueh@sph.com.sg

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MAKE IT YOURSELF: CHANPURU BURGER

INGREDIENTS

1 400g tin luncheon meat

1 small bittergourd, about 250g

2 Tbs sesame oil

1/2 tsp salt

1 Tbs sake

3 eggs, lightly beaten

1 Tbs Japanese rice vinegar (optional)

4 Tbs Japanese mayonnaise

1/2 tsp ichimi togarashi (above) or to taste

4 hamburger buns

METHOD

1. Remove luncheon meat from the tin, slice into four equally thick rounds. Place in a large non-stick fry pan over medium heat. Cook until well browned, flip over and brown the other side. Place on a plate lined with paper towels, set aside.

2. Wash the bittergourd under running water, dry with paper towels. Trim both ends, cut the gourd in half lengthwise. Use a spoon to scoop out the seeds and spongy core. Slice each piece in half lengthwise, then cut into thin slices crosswise.

3. Warm the sesame oil in a wok or medium fry pan over medium heat. Add the bittergourd, stir fry 2 minutes. Add salt and sake, stir fry another 2 minutes.

4. Add the beaten eggs, mix well with the bittergourd. Just as the eggs are about to set, add the rice vinegar (if using), give the mixture one last stir and turn off the heat.

5. In a small bowl, mix the mayonnaise with ichimi togarashi. Slice the hamburger buns in half and spread each half with the mayonnaise mixture. Place one slice of luncheon meat on each bottom half of the bun. Divide the bittergourd mixture into four equal portions and spoon onto the patties. Cap each burger with the top half of the bun. Eat immediately.

Serves four.

VARIATION: CHANPURU

INGREDIENTS

1 medium bittergourd, about 400g

100g thinly sliced pork belly

1 square firm tofu (tau kwa)

3 Tbs sesame oil

1 tsp salt or to taste

3 Tbs sake

4 eggs, lightly beaten

2 Tbs rice vinegar

METHOD

1. Wash the bittergourd under running water, dry with paper towels. Trim off both ends, cut the gourd in half lengthwise. Use a spoon to scoop out the seeds and spongy core. Slice each piece in half lengthwise, then cut into thin slices crosswise.

2. Cut the slices of pork belly crosswise into 2cm pieces.

3. Halve the square of tofu and slice crosswise into 0.5cm pieces.

4. Heat the sesame oil over a large fry pan over medium heat. Add the pork, separate the pieces with a spatula or a pair of chopsticks. Stirfry about 1 minute, add the bittergourd and stirfry 2 minutes. Add the tofu, stirfry 2 minutes. Add salt and sake, stirfry another 2 minutes.

5. Add the egg and mix it in well. Just as the egg is about to set, add the rice vinegar, give the mixture one last stir and turn off the heat. Check for seasonings and add more salt if needed. Serve with rice.

Serves four.

FT: The delicate flavours of Suzhou cusine

The delicate flavours of Suzhou cuisine

By Fuchsia Dunlop

Published: September 11 2010 01:38 | Last updated: September 11 2010 01:38

A range of dishes from Deyue Lou

The Chinese city of Suzhou, about 60 miles from Shanghai, is known best for its gardens and for the network of canals that once earned it the nickname, alongside numerous other Asian cities, of “the Venice of the east”. Though much of the old city has been erased by overzealous development, the gardens are still enchanting, with their rockeries, pools and pavilions. The canalside street of Pingjiang Lu has a sleepy, old-world charm. However, I am here mainly to investigate the food, for Suzhou has its own culinary style, su bang cai, or Suzhou cuisine.

A certain obsession with food is perceptible just by strolling along Guanqian Street, the main shopping street in the city centre. Here, engraved plaques outside famous old cake shops explain their pedigrees, and shoppers queue for seasonal delicacies such as red-sauced pork or glutinous rice balls stained by fresh wheatgrass. On another street running south, the old noodle shop Zhuhongxing dispenses soup noodles served with sticky-sweet eel and tender pork belly and other favourite local snacks. It all reminds me of the novella that gave me my own first sniff of Suzhou culinary culture, The Gourmet by local writer Lu Wenfu: a satirical tale of the relationship between a gluttonous landlord and a young communist with a priggish disdain for gastronomy. Hints of the devastating pleasures of Suzhou cuisine pepper every page.

Broadly speaking, Suzhou belongs to the great Huaiyang culinary region in the east, which is notable for its easy climate, plentiful produce and rich artistic and gastronomic culture. For centuries, this region was a magnet for the literati and many gentlemen of letters who lived or lingered here, such as the Song dynasty poets Su Dongpo and Lu You, and the Qing dynasty poet Yuan Mei, wrote about its food.

Suzhou itself, like other cities in the region, has its own famous dishes and gastronomic predilections, although many Chinese outsiders dismiss its style as cloyingly sweet. In the west, Suzhou cooking is largely unknown, although anyone eating Shanghainese cuisine will be unwittingly tasting the influence of Suzhou, and many people will have come across a few of its most celebrated dishes, such as “squirrel fish” (song shu gui yu) dressed in sweet-and-sour sauce.

On this, my first trip to Suzhou, by an amazing stroke of luck I find myself within 24 hours in a small kitchen with two retired master chefs preparing a private banquet for a table of local officials. I watch as they whip up, in barely more than an hour, a feast of eight or nine dishes, including a fabulous soup of turtle, pork, ham, chicken and bamboo shoots (not to mention the nine cold dishes they had made in advance). With every dish, they throw a little extra into the wok, so that I can have a taste, and when they have finished we join the rest of the staff for supper. For me, it is a delightful introduction to Suzhou culinary culture.

It isn’t the only serendipitous encounter of the trip. Later, I stumble upon Wumen Renjia, a restaurant devoted to traditional Suzhou cuisine. It occupies a rambling old courtyard house and is part of the Suzhou Folk Museum. Founded in 1986, it is now run by Sha Peizhi, a devoted advocate of Suzhou’s culinary culture. “Suzhou is an extraordinary place with a remarkable heritage,” she tells me. “Its gardens are already on the Unesco World Heritage List, and its opera is recognised as part of the world’s intangible cultural heritage – so why not its food?”

Since Sha took over Wumen Renjia in 2003, she has conducted her own research into the history of Suzhou cuisine, visiting the imperial archives in Beijing to find out what the Qianlong emperor ate during his visit here in 1751, and writing introductions to local culinary culture that are displayed on the walls of the restaurant. “Originally there were around 300 gardens in Suzhou [only a few dozen remain], as well nearly 50 official residences, and each of these households would have had teams of private chefs, so you can imagine the standard of the food. Suzhou has a well-established gourmet culture.”

Sha dismisses the accusation of sweetness as a misunderstanding by outsiders. “Most Suzhou dishes are very subtle, with flavours that are light and gentle. They are understated rather than fancy, like our gardens, with their naturalistic elegance. Of course, this means that Suzhou cooking is hard to do well because it relies on the finest, freshest ingredients; and some of our cooking techniques are rather troublesome. But ours is a very balanced style of cooking.”

Over dinner at Wumen Renjia, some Chinese friends and I enjoy a feast of Suzhou specialities, many made with unusual local ingredients. There are spiced peanuts and bean curd, a delicious, crunchy relish of roasted pine kernels with Jinhua ham and white sugar, sliced cold duck in a rich, ruddy sauce, and xian cai, preserved mustard greens.

Our main courses include “cherry pork” that has been slow-cooked for seven or eight hours, seasonal broad beans stir-fried with spring onions, and mushrooms with shepherd’s purse greens. For our soup, we have a broth of tender silver fish with water shield (chun cai), a slippery water vegetable. As Sha had promised, the sweet tastes are balanced by the understated flavours of fresh ingredients, simply but beautifully cooked. I was satisfied that this was a meal that would have pleased Lu Wenfu’s gluttonous gourmet and outraged his starchy communist.

By all accounts there is a small and dwindling number of Suzhou restaurants that specialise in the local cuisine. Two famous old names in the city centre, the Deyue Lou and the Songhe Lou, offer classic Suzhou dishes (squirrel fish is a speciality of the Songhe Lou), but they are outnumbered by western fast food outlets and by restaurants specialising in other cuisines, such as Indian and Sichuanese.

“Chinese people are blindly following the west in the clothes they wear, the homes they live in, and the food they eat,” says Sha. “Cultured Suzhou people know it’s not a good idea to eat spicy food in this climate because it creates internal heat. But young people’s tastes are changing. They are seduced by advertisements and they are also after stimulation in their food, which is why Sichuanese places are so popular. They see the kind of food we serve as old-fashioned.”

Wumen Renjia is not a smart or fashionable restaurant – aside from one vast and magnificent private room, the main dining spaces have a scruffy, lived-in air – but it’s a favourite among the older generation of locals, and with tourists who come here for a real taste of Suzhou. In the kitchens, one chef, in his seventies, is schooling younger members of staff in the arts of Suzhou cookery. “I want visitors to understand something of our way of life,” says Sha. “I want to make sure that our culinary traditions are handed down to the next generation.”

Fuchsia Dunlop is the author of ‘Shark’s Fin and Sichuan Pepper: A Sweet-Sour Memoir of Eating in China’ (Ebury Press), winner of the Jane Grigson Award in the US and the UK’s Kate Whiteman Award

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2010.

ST: Delectable dialect dishes

Lifestyle

Home > Lifestyle > Taste > Story

Jul 25, 2010

Delectable dialect dishes

Some like it hot, some like it steamed or fried... put them together and they make up the yummy dishes of Chinese dialect groups

By Rebecca Lynne Tan

To some non-Chinese, Chinese food is all about sweet and sour pork, stir-fried vegetables and fried rice.

With so many dialect groups in the community, confusion arises and others can be forgiven for lumping Chinese food under one giant umbrella.

The distinctive cuisines of Chinese dialect groups are in the limelight now. They are the theme for this year's Singapore Food Festival, which began 10 days ago. The annual festival ends today.

Singapore is made up of a diverse mix of ethnicities and ethnic Chinese form the majority, making up about 76.8 per cent of the population, according to figures from the last Singapore Census of Population, published in 2001.

Most Chinese Singaporeans belong to the Hokkien dialect group. Other dialect groups here are Teochew, Cantonese, Hakka, Hainanese, Foochow, Henghua, Shanghainese and Hockchia.

Cuisines differ a great deal among dialects - from the way a fish is steamed to the way porridge is cooked.

For example, a Teochew-style steamed fish would involve boiling slices of ginger with preserved sour plum, tomato and slices of preserved vegetable. Broth is then added to the fish before it is steamed.

The result is a fish served in a slightly tangy light broth.

Traditional Cantonese-style steamed fish looks and tastes completely different - it is steamed and usually coated in fragrant hot oil and soya sauce, and topped with spring onions and Chinese parsley.

As for porridge, the Teochew style is more like soupy rice, versus the smooth, creamy Cantonese style.

Preferred cooking methods also differ. Some, such as the Teochew, prefer to steam food, rather than fry or deep-fry. The Hainanese, too, prefer simple cooking methods of simmering and blanching.

On the other hand, Cantonese cooking is known for its 'wok hei' - the aromatic charred fragrance which is infused into the food as a result of frying the ingredients over a big flame.

Some dialect groups also use ingredients that others do not.

Hakkas and Foochows are known for fermenting their own wine, which is made from glutinous rice, and often use this in their cooking.

Chef Chan Kwok, 54, group master chef of Orchard Hotel who heads its Cantonese restaurant, Hua Ting, says: 'Cantonese people are well known for brewing good soups. To them, every meal should begin with a bowl of piping hot soup.

'Cantonese chefs believe that soups can help to improve and build up our bodies because of the ingredients and herbs used.'

And if soups are definitive of Cantonese cuisine, Hokkien fare is often characterised by its hearty dishes, such as kong bak pau, which are slices of braised pork belly served in steamed buns.

Hakka cuisine is known for its flavourful and light cooking style, and its popular dish of abacus seeds, which are small yam dumplings cooked with minced pork.

And what about Hainanese chicken rice and pork chop?

Mr Tan Yoke Han, 67, president of the Singapore Hainan Society, says those dishes have been localised.

The chilli and garlic sauce that is served with chicken rice is unique to this part of the world.

The ubiquitous Hainanese pork chop in tomato gravy served with fries or potato slices, he says, was created by Hainanese cooks who worked for the British army and in hotel kitchens and it is an evolution of Western-style dishes.

Foochows come from the coastal region of Fujian province and hence, there is a strong focus on seafood items. Popular dishes include cold crab and clam soup.

Their red wine chicken soup and deep-fried pork liver dishes are also well known.

Mrs Magdelene Low, an executive board member of the Singapore Foochow Association, 57, says: 'We have a good balance of both meat and seafood dishes in our cooking. Our cuisine is slightly heavier than Teochew cuisine.'

But many home cooks believe that the most authentic fare is prepared at home, with recipes passed down through generations.

Housewife Tan Eng Choo, 62, who is Teochew, says: 'I learnt many dishes from my mother and grandmother - how to steam fish, how to make stewed belly pork and how to braise duck.

'We have to keep these dishes true to tradition and remember our roots.'

rltan@sph.com.sg

How can we keep our dialect dishes alive? Write to suntimes@sph.com.sg

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Teochew

Healthy fare include steamed fish with preserved vegetables, tomato, sour plum and ginger (top); pig's trotter jelly (above); and snacks (below) such as pink peng kueh, filled with rice; and white soon kueh, with bamboo shoots and/or radish. -- PHOTOS: DESMOND FOO, ST FILE

Geography: The Teochews are the second largest Chinese dialect group in Singapore, making up about 21 per cent. Many Teochew ancestors came to Singapore from Shantou, in the eastern part of Guangdong province.

Characteristics: Fresh flavours. Sauces are often light but fragrant and tasty.

Cooking methods: Steaming is preferred; other methods include braising and stir-frying.

Famous dishes: Steamed fish with preserved vegetables, tomato, sour plum and ginger; braised goose or duck in soya sauce gravy; pig's trotter jelly or aspic; orh nee, a yam paste dessert; and Teochew porridge, a watery gruel with large fluffy grains of rice. The porridge is often eaten with condiments such as preserved olives, preserved lettuce and salted egg, and simple dishes such as omelette with preserved radish.

Where to try: Chin Lee Restaurant, Block 115 Bedok North Road, 01-285, tel: 6449-5454; Ah Orh, Block 115 Jalan Bukit Merah, 01-1627, tel: 6275-7575; Guan Hin Teochew Restaurant, Block 34 Whampoa West, 01-01, tel: 6298-3179

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Hakka

Favourites include suan pan zi (above) or abacus seeds cooked with minced pork and mushroom; soon kueh made with yam-paste skin (top) and sweet dessert of black bean kueh (below).

Geography: About 8 per cent of Chinese Singaporeans are Hakka, who come from several regions in China, including north-east Fujian province, Guangdong and Jiangxi. The Hakka reportedly moved from central China to southern China during the early dynasties.

Characteristics: A combination of rich and hearty flavours, as well as light soupy fare.

Cooking methods: The use of home-made wine is common in traditional Hakka cooking. Steaming, stir-frying and braising are also popular methods.

Famous dishes: Suan pan zi or yam coins that resemble abacus seeds fried with minced pork and mushroom, and served with shredded cuttlefish; yong tau foo, beancurd stuffed with minced pork; Hakka soon kueh, steamed rice-flour dumplings with a yam-paste skin; lei cha fan or thunder tea rice, rice dish topped with vegetables served with peanuts; and black bean kueh.

Where to try: Plum Village Restaurant, 16 Jalan Leban, tel: 6458-9005; Kew Garden, 315 Outram Road, Tan Boon Liat Building, 02-313/315, tel: 6222-2313

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Hokkien

Yummy goodies include kong bak pau (above) and ngoh hiang, a minced pork, prawn and chestnut roll wrapped in beancurd skin (below).

Geography: Over 41 per cent of the Chinese people in Singapore are of Hokkien descent. Their ancestors came from Fujian province, which is along the south-east coast of China, just north of Guangdong province.

Characteristics: Simple and hearty fare.

Cooking methods: Simmering for soups, braising for meats, frying and stir-frying.

Famous dishes: Kong bak pau, which is sliced braised pork belly served in a steamed bun; Hokkien mee, thick yellow noodles braised in a dark sauce and stock; hae cho, a deep-fried prawn roll; ngoh hiang, a minced pork, prawn and chestnut roll wrapped in beancurd skin; pig's trotter bee hoon or rice vermicelli, and oyster omelette.

Where to try: Beng Thin Hoon Kee Restaurant, 65 Chulia Street, OCBC Centre, 05-02, tel: 6533-2818; Bee Heong Palace, 134 Telok Ayer Street, tel: 6222-9074; Westlake, Block 4 Queen's Road, 02-139, tel: 6474-7283

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Foochow

Red wine chicken soup (above), a Foochow speciality.

Another Foochow must-have is deep-fried liver served with kai lan.

Geography: There are about 50,000 Foochows in Singapore. Other dialect groups closely related to Foochow include Hockchia, Henghua and Hockchew. Most come from the Fuzhou area in Fujian province.

Characteristics: Often cooked with home- made wine, using more meats than seafood.

Cooking methods: Simmering and stir-frying.

Famous dishes: Red wine chicken soup, deep-fried liver with kai lan, fishballs stuffed with minced pork, dumplings, cold crab.

Where to try: Singapura Seafood Restaurant, Block 9 Selegie House, 01-31 Selegie Road, tel: 6336-3255; Lee Do Restaurant, 61 Ubi Avenue 2, 01-13, tel: 6742-6233

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Cantonese

Roast duck, char siew and roast pork (right) are good starters for Cantonese meals. -- PHOTOS: BUSINESS TIMES, DESMOND FOO

Geography: Cantonese people make up about 15 per cent of the Chinese here. Many Cantonese come from Guangzhou, the biggest city in Guangdong province, in southern China.

Characteristics: Rich and robust flavours, tasty soups and dishes with 'wok hei', the charred aroma that infuses the food as a result of being wok-fried over high heat.

Cooking methods: Double-boiled soups, steaming, frying at high heat.

Famous dishes: Roast duck, char siew, steamed fish with soya sauce, braised sea cucumber and Chinese mushrooms, braised spare ribs, watercress soup with pork ribs and red dates, winter melon soup, century egg and lean pork porridge.

Where to try: Hua Ting, 442 Orchard Road, Orchard Hotel, tel: 6739-6666; Mitzi Cantonese Restaurant, 62 Tanjong Pagar Road, tel: 6222-0929

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Hainanese

Hainanese dishes include pork chop in tomato gravy (top); yi bua, a rice- flour kueh filled with coconut, sesame seeds and peanuts (above); and art bua, a rice-flour kueh doused in shredded coconut, and sesame seeds cooked in brown sugar (below).

Geography: Hainanese people come from Hainan island, which is China's southern-most and smallest province. The Singapore Hainan Society estimates that there are about 200,000 Hainanese people here.

Characteristics: Simple cooking with strong flavours.

Cooking methods: Methods typically include boiling and blanching. Cooking styles in Singapore have evolved to include Western-style dishes.

Famous dishes: Bai zhan ji or steamed white chicken which is often eaten with chicken rice; Hainanese pork chop served in a tomato gravy; yi bua, a rice flour kueh filled with coconut, sesame seeds and peanuts; art bua, a rice flour kueh doused in coconut and sesame seeds cooked in brown sugar.

Where to try: YY Kafei Dian, 37 Beach Road, 01-01, tel: 6336-8813; Yet Con, 25 Purvis Street, tel: 6337-6819; Chin Chin Eating House, 19 Purvis Street, tel: 6337-4640